


Blind Spots

by minchout



Series: Blind Spots [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Prison, Prison Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minchout/pseuds/minchout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a con with six months left on his prison sentence. Jensen ends up inside, and the two find their way to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blind Spots

“You were an English teacher, right? When you were on the outside?”

Jared stood awkwardly in the doorway to the small room that was the prison library and watched the con shelving books turn to stare at him, arch one eyebrow, look Jared over from head to toe, then turn back to the shelf he was stocking without so much as a word in response to Jared’s question.

“Hey, man,” Jared said. “I asked you a question. The least you could do is answer.”

“What do you care what I did on the outside?” the con—Ackles—said. He shot the guard standing in the corner of the room a look then turned to Jared. The look on his face said he couldn’t decide if he should be wary or disdainful. “Whatever you want from me, I’m not interested.”

Jared’s first instinct was to attack, to tell Ackles to fuck off and rough him up a little. On the outside, Jared hadn’t been violent. He’d been an overgrown puppy, all wag and bounce. But landing in prison at seventeen had beat the puppy out of him real quick. He’d had to turn full blown Rottweiler to keep from turning bitch. He spent all the time he could in the yard and on the weight machines, and he’d gone from lanky to built quick enough. He was a big son-of-a-bitch, and people didn’t mess with him because of it.

Jared knew Ackles was having trouble, though. He’d shown up in prison a month back all lips and eyes and looking so sweet it made your cock ache for whatever girl you’d left back home, and the sick fucks in this place had wanted a piece of him whatever way they could get it. From what Jared heard, Ackles had had to fight from day one just to stay in one piece. Jared didn’t think the man was anyone’s prize yet, but it couldn’t be far off. Ackles had a split lip and a bruise high up on his cheek bone, and no doubt he was hiding worse under his prison jumper. He’d probably turn bitch just for protection. Jared was sort of banking on it, hoping he could offer Ackles a little help if he’d help Jared in return.

Jared shifted and hunched his shoulders a bit, tried not to appear so intimidating. He grabbed up a book from Ackles’s cart and clutched it in front of him.

“I wondered if you could help me,” Jared said.

“I just said I’m not interested,” Ackles said.

“You don’t even know what I want,” Jared said.

“Look,” Ackles said. He sighed a little. “Padalecki, right?”

“Call me Jared,” Jared said.

Ackles snorted. “Jared, huh? How ‘bout I just call you sasquatch. It’d be closer to the truth.” His face said bravado, but his trembling hands told a different story.

Jared smiled, hoping to calm the guy down. “Only if I can call you shorty,” he said.

“Are you flirting with me?” Ackles said. “Is that what this is?”

Jared blushed, and wasn’t that something? He hadn’t blushed since he was a fish being catcalled on the cell block by some of the toughest cons in Texas.

“You are,” Ackles said.

“No,” Jared said. “No. I just…it’s stupid, I guess. I need your help writing a letter.”

“A letter,” Ackles said, flat.

“Yeah, man,” Jared said. “I’m up for parole in six months, and I wanted to write a letter to the board. It’s gotta be good, you know? They gotta know I’m sincere.”

“And why can’t you do this on your own?” Ackles said. “I mean, yeah, I was an English teacher, but it’s not like literary flourish is really what the parole board’s looking for.”

“Literary what?” Jared said.

“I just mean,” Ackles said. “You’ll sound more sincere if it’s in your own words.”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “I want it to be in my own words. It’s just…”

“It’s just?” Ackles prompted. He went back to shelving books, barely paying Jared any attention.

“I can’t write,” Jared said. “Or read.” Jared clutched at his book again, but it wasn’t an act this time. He felt suddenly nervous. Most of the guys in prison, they didn’t know about Jared’s problem and wouldn’t think to ask, and Jared didn’t give two fucks about their opinions even if they did. But Ackles was different. He was smart, apparently, if his job on the outside said anything about being smart, and every time he looked at Jared, he seemed to size him up.

After Jared announced his deficiency, Ackles turned slowly to look at him. “You’re serious,” he said.

Jared nodded.

Ackles looked pained. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and Jared tracked the movement, and Ackles saw the look and he just shut down. Just like that. Which was unfortunate, because Jared could tell he’d been about to agree.

“I’m sorry, man,” Ackles said. “But I can’t help you.”

***

The prisoners called them blind spots, those certain angles the cameras couldn’t get at, nooks in hallways the guards couldn’t always police. They made it easy to snatch a prisoner out of line on his way to the cafeteria or the communal toilets or the showers. Then, of course, there were the showers and toilets themselves. The state didn’t have enough money to station a guard at every toilet. And even if there was a guard, it wasn’t a problem for a con who was particularly determined. Guards could be paid off in lots of ways.

Jared saw it happen. He was in line on his way toward lunch. He wasn’t the tallest con, not by a long shot, but he was tall, and he could see over most of the line. Ackles was five cons or so ahead of him and then he just wasn’t. Jared blinked and he was gone.

None of the other cons in line gave a shit. They were used to this kind of thing. One man muttered something about Ackles’s mouth and how he’d like to get a piece. Jared knew he shouldn’t care. He really shouldn’t. Ackles had turned him down flat not two days before like he couldn’t give a shit what happened to Jared. But something about Ackles tugged at him. Though he was probably twenty-five or twenty-six to Jared’s twenty-three, Ackles reminded Jared of himself when he’d gotten here. Too wet behind the ears to do a damn thing to save himself.

Jared shoved through the line and rounded the corner. Ackles was on his knees, his head pushed back at an almost impossible angle, those eyes of his big and wet and green, lashes clumped up with his tears, his nose snotty about his mouth stuffed with cock and a shiv pressed to his throat.

Ackles’s attacker was a skinhead who Jared knew was low in the ranks and would benefit from grabbing himself a bitch like Ackles. Ackles’s eyes went even wider when he saw Jared, and his entire face burned red right up to the tips of his ears like he thought Jared would think he wanted this, like Jared would think he was actually enjoying himself sucking Mr. Swastika’s cock.

“Let him go,” Jared said, his voice steady. The skinheads had tried to recruit Jared when he’d first arrived, but they gave him a wide berth now.

“Padalecki,” the man said. “It’s cool, man. I’ll share him if you want.”

Jared heard Ackles moan, and watched his eyelids flutter. He was starting to struggle enough to not care about the shiv pressed to his vulnerable neck. A drop of blood beaded on the smooth, pale skin against the blade.

“He’s mine,” Jared said. “You back off him now, maybe I won’t hurt you for fucking with my toy.”

The man pulled Ackles off his cock, and Ackles gasped in heaving breaths and coughed like he was dying. It looked like the skinhead wanted to say something else, but Jared stopped him with a hand to his throat and a hard push that slammed the man’s head back against the wall. Jared grabbed Ackles by his jumper and pulled him to his feet, shoved him back in line. Jared stood behind him. The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

Ackles looked dazed, and he only moved forward with the line because Jared pressed a discreet hand to the small of his back. His chin was still shiny with spit.

Jared made sure Ackles got his tray filled and steered him to Jared’s table. They both ate. Ackles flinched when two other cons joined them. Jared wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

***

In the yard, Jared had one of the weight machines to himself. He’d been twitchy all day, though, waiting for retaliation from the skinheads. If he was lucky, the guy he’d confronted would be too embarrassed to bring it to the bosses. Jared might have respect in this place, but he was still just one guy. It was dangerous to not be part of a group in a place like this.

When Jared felt a shadow behind him, he moved and was in the guy’s space in seconds, pressing him up against the fence. Ackles threw his hands up in a placating gesture, and he looked like he was regretting doing whatever it was he’d been doing.

Jared saw in his periphery guards approaching, so he backed off. No problem here. The guards relaxed.

“Sorry,” Ackles said.

“Don’t sneak up on someone in this place, man,” Jared said. “It’s a good way to get dead.”

“Yeah,” Ackles said. “I get that.” He ran a hand along the back of his neck. “I wanted to say thanks,” he said.

Jared shrugged.

“And if you’re looking for something in return, I guess…” Ackles flushed. “I guess I just wanted to get it over with.”

Jared snorted. “Well look at you. Brave little fish, huh?”

The look Ackles shot him could kill a kitten it was so sour.

“Is that what you think I want, teach?” Jared said. “Think I rescued you so I could put you on your knees right here in the yard?”

“I don’t know why the hell you did it,” Ackles growled. “You called me your toy.”

“If I wanted you like that, I could have you like that,” Jared said. “I don’t need to risk my skin to get it. I could have you fucked and claimed quicker than you could lick those pretty lips of yours, you got me, teach?”

“Then why’d you do it?” Ackles said.

“Cause just maybe I’m a nice guy,” Jared said.

He didn’t really mean it. Maybe he’d been a nice guy once, but he wasn’t anymore. But it looked like Ackles was mulling Jared’s words over, like maybe they were something he thought he could actually believe.

“I could still repay you,” Ackles said slowly. “I could help you write that letter, if you still wanted me to.”

“Yeah,” Jared scoffed. “And it wouldn’t hurt to be seen with me, either. Isn’t that right?”

“Look, man. It’s not like that,” Ackles said. “I don’t know this world. I’m just trying to stay above water. I’m just trying, you know?”

Jared pressed his lips together and nodded. “All right, fine. You can help me.”

Jensen snorted. “Yeah. Thanks for the favor, I guess.”

***

Jared met Ackles in the library the next morning after role call and chow. Ackles’s library shift was in the afternoons, so the other librarian was there watching the books or whatever the hell a prison librarian did. He was a con named Singer who’d been inside for more than thirty years. To last that long, he had to have been well respected in his day. He was an old-timer now, so no one gave him any trouble. Jared might change his mind on that one, though. He didn’t like the way the man looked at Ackles, like he was thinking dirty old-man thoughts in that dirty old head of his. Jared must have intimidated him, though, because after a look, the man skittered off to a table far a way and hunkered down with an outdated magazine.

When Jared looked at Ackles, there was a funny look on the con’s face, like he was considering Jared in a way he hadn’t before.

“You don’t need to worry about Bob,” Ackles said. “He’s harmless.”

“No one’s harmless in here,” Jared said. “Thinking that was your first mistake.”

Ackles’s eyes grew dark, and the skin at the corners creased as he frowned. “And you, Padalecki?” he said. “What is it I should think of you?”

“No con can be trusted.”

Ackles nodded, shuffled the papers he was holding, and the little nub of a pencil that was too small to be filed into a weapon. “Let’s get started,” he said. He pulled out a chair and sat.

“How do you want to do this?” Jared said.

“I guess that’s up to you, man,” Ackles said. “You, uh…I mean you said you can’t read. Like, not at all? Do you know the alphabet?”

“Why is that important?” Jared said. “I just wanna write a fucking letter.”

“I need to know what I’m working with.”

“I thought I’d just talk and you could write,” Jared said. “I mean, I don’t see how else to do it.”

“So that’s a no, then,” Ackles said. “To the question about the alphabet.”

Jared grabbed a piece of paper from the pile with a frustrated huff. He took the pencil and started to draw his letters. He knew the shape of them. Could draw them big and small. Knew the order, knew the song. It was just, when they were jumbled all together and put into groups, when they made words, they lost all meaning entirely.

Ackles stopped him somewhere around “g.” He put his hand on Jared’s pencil hand, said, “Hey, it’s okay, man. I get it.”

Jared shifted uncomfortably, dropped the pencil on the table and pulled his hand into his lap.

Ackles readied a piece of paper. “So, uh, what do you want to say?”

His face was somber, and he looked at Jared like his words mattered, and Jared realized that this was the first time anyone had looked at him, really looked at him and seen him in the six years he’d been in this place.

“This was a bad idea,” he said. He stood, knocking the chair over behind him.

Jared felt the guard in the corner tense. Ackles just sat back in his chair.

“No it isn’t,” Ackles said quietly. “It’s a good idea to write to the parole board. Focus on that, huh man?”

Jared swallowed and righted his chair. He sat.

“What do you want to say?” Ackles said again. His voice quiet.

“I just…I want them to know I was just a dumb kid. That I’m sorry. That I think about it every day. I’ve kept my head down, you know? Served my time with good behavior.”

Ackles nodded. He was scribbling across the paper. “That’s good. We’ll start there.”

“Start?” Jared said.

“I think you need something more. I mean, they’ve probably heard all of that before. You want to say something that lets them know you’re one of the ones who mean it. Something personal.”

Jared considered that for a moment. He knew what Ackles meant, he just didn’t know if he was ready to give Ackles his story. Unfortunately, though, that was the only way this letter would get written.

“I could help you,” Ackles said.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

“No. I mean after this,” Ackles said. “I could help you learn to read. Maybe get you started toward a GED. It would look good to the parole board at the very least, and at best you wouldn’t have to go through life handicapped.”

“Handicapped?” Jared said.

“It’s a handicap, Jared,” he said. “They’ll want you to get a job when you get out of here. You’ll need to be able to read.”

“Fuck you,” Jared said. He started to stand.

“Or you could just walk away,” Ackles said. “And never get anywhere better than where you are right now.”

He looked up at Jared then with this smug, knowing look on his face, and Jared slugged him, hit him right over the bruise already on his cheek.

***

When Jared got out of solitary a week later, he was dirty and tired and hungry enough that even the food in the cafeteria sounded appetizing. He went straight to lunch, ate every bit of what passed for meatloaf and mashed potatoes in this place, then followed the rest of the cons out to the yard where he ran straight into Ackles, who it seemed had stationed himself in the weight area waiting for Jared’s return.

He looked bad, Ackles did. He had a ring of bruises around his throat, a long, angry cut on his cheek, and two black eyes from what looked like a broken nose with nothing but a piece of butterfly tape pressed to the bridge.

At Jared’s look, Ackles touched his nose self-consciously. “Don’t get a big head over it,” he said. “You didn’t do this.”

“Who did?” Jared said, his voice low and steady, and Ackles was probably right to back away from the sound of it. Nothing good happened when Jared felt the way he felt right now.

“Wouldn’t that be snitching?” Ackles said.

“Not when it’s me you’re telling,” Jared said.

“Why?” Ackles said. “Why do you care? Because I’m your ‘toy’?”

“Maybe you should be,” Jared said. “If people thought you were with me, you’d be safer.”

“Yeah, and all I have to do is suck your cock or bend over whenever you ask me,” Ackles said, his voice bitter. “Thanks but no thanks. I can get fucked at both ends without your help.”

“I wouldn’t make you do that,” Jared said.

“Why do you care, man?” Ackles said. “I don’t fucking get it.”

“I’m selfish,” Jared said. “You’re gonna teach me to read.”

“Yeah?” Ackles said, and he actually looked pleased. “Good. That’s good, man. I’m glad.”

Jared scuffed a foot through the grass. He listened to the sounds of the yard—a burst of laughter with no humor in it, shoes dragged on pavement, shouts, a basketball bouncing, somewhere a bird’s call.

He shrugged and went to his favorite weight machine. He told Ackles to stay close.

***

The first thing Jared did was get Ackles moved to his cell. It wasn’t difficult to pay a guard to make the switch, though it did eat into Jared’s meager savings. Ackles looked pissed when he showed up in Jared’s cell. Jared hadn’t bothered to tell him.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Ackles said. “Don’t need you fucking watching over me while I sleep.”

“It’s not about that,” Jared said. “Cons know I had you moved here, word will spread soon enough that you’re mine.”

“Do you have to say it like that?” Ackles said.

Someone catcalled from down the block, and someone else shouted, “Padalecki, my man! Get you some of that sweet bitch ass!”

Ackles all but collapsed on the bottom bunk. Jared laughed.

“See?” Jared said.

“Don’t laugh. Just…please don’t laugh,” Ackles said. He sat up and looked at Jared. He looked like he was having trouble breathing. “This is really the furthest thing from funny.”

“Calm down, Ackles,” Jared said. He kept his voice quiet. “Right the fuck now. Don’t ever let any of them hear you like this, you got me? You gotta panic, you do it late at night when no one but me can tell the difference.”

Ackles gulped a breath, nodded.

“Give me one of your blankets,” Jared said.

“Why?” Ackles said.

Jared just waved him off and took the blanket. He tied it in knots around the bars of their open cell so it acted like a curtain blocking them from view, the universal prison sign for “we’re fucking in here” and the only type of privacy cons could ever get. Even the guards respected the sheet, even though it was against prison rules.

Jared sat next to his new cell mate.

“You gonna make an honest man of me, then?” Ackles said, a weak joke.

“What’s your name?” Jared said. “All I know is Ackles and your number.”

“Jensen,” he said.

“Jensen,” Jared said. “Why don’t we work on my letter?”

Jensen looked toward the sheet. “They think we’re fucking in here, don’t they.”

“Yeah,” Jared said.

“Okay,” Jensen said. “Let’s work on your letter.”

***

Things weren’t better after that—nothing in prison ever gets better, just shifts in varying degrees of bad—but they did get different in a way Jared thought he was okay with. Jensen taught Jared the sounds the letters made, not just their names, and it didn’t take long before he could read simple things. Jensen ordered him some grade school books on Amazon and had them shipped, and it was the closest thing to a present Jared had gotten since he was ten years old and had his last Christmas before his mom and dad were killed.

The other cons still talked dirty to Jensen, joked about his cocksucking lips and described, in detail, what they would do to him if they ever caught him unawares. But no one had touched him since he’d become Jared’s, and that was a win. Jared knew he’d probably have to actively fight for Jensen one day unless some newer, prettier fish showed up to take all their attention, but he didn’t think he’d mind it so much. Jensen was fighting for Jared, too, in his own way.

And Jared had someone to talk to now. Sometimes he thought Jensen might slit his throat in his sleep just to get rid of Jared’s noise, but for the most part it seemed like Jensen didn’t mind. In fact, most days, it seemed like Jensen was starving for the interaction. Jared told stories and Jensen watched his mouth and eyes with an intensity that sort of freaked Jared out, though on the days Jensen didn’t pay him such close attention, he found himself working for it, cracking jokes and saying more and more outlandish things just to see Jensen smile.

Then he woke up one night with a body on top of his. His first instinct was attack. He hadn’t had anyone on top of him since that first terrible night he’d spent in this place, and he’d sworn never to feel that way again. But then the someone was placing a finger over Jared’s lips and shushing him, and Jared thought Jensen as he caught the flash of his cell mate’s eyes in the half-light.

“What are you doing?” Jared whispered.

“It’s okay,” Jensen said. “Gonna make you feel good, Jay.”

Jared was in nothing but briefs and a wife beater, and he hissed as Jensen palmed at his cock through the cotton.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“I know,” Jensen said. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

He sat up on Jared’s lap, his head close enough to the concrete ceiling that he had to duck it down, and Jared got a good look at how aroused he looked. It was never completely dark on the cell block, a fact Jared had cursed many sleepless nights, but right now that dim light was something Jared was very grateful for.

Jensen lifted up a little and pulled his briefs down around his thighs, freeing his cock before doing the same for Jared.

“Is this okay, Jay?” he said. “I don’t wanna be like them. I need you to say it’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Jared said. “Yeah, s’good.”

Jensen chuckled and wrapped his hands around both of their dicks. Jared hadn’t had a hand there that wasn’t his own in far too long, and he felt himself shoot before he was ready, ropey strings of come that decorated Jensen’s bare chest.

“Fuck,” Jensen said. He wiped a hand through the mess and thrust against Jared, and Jared twitched from the feeling of too much sensation against his softening cock. When Jensen came, he shot into his cupped hand, then laughed lightly and rolled off of Jared, sat against the wall, and wiped his hands in Jared’s sheets.

“Fuck,” Jared echoed.

Jensen looked at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you.”

“Really?” Jared said. He stretched his arms as much as he could in the small cell. Jensen’s legs were draped over his thighs, and Jared didn’t mind the weight of them.

“Yeah,” Jensen said.

“Thought you were scared of me,” Jared said.

“I was,” Jensen said. “Didn’t change the fact I thought you were hot. I mean, Christ. Look at you. You always been this big, or is this a prison thing?”

“I was scrawny when I got here,” Jared said.

“Can’t imagine that.” Jensen pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a matchbook from out of the sheets. He put one in his mouth, lit it, tilted his head back against the wall, and groaned out a trail of smoke.

“You smoked before this?” Jared said.

“Guilty,” Jensen said. “How’d you go this long without picking up the habit?”

“Cigarettes are currency. I didn’t smoke dollar bills on the outside.”

Jensen laughed. “Smart kid.”

“We gonna be doing that often?” Jared asked.

“What, sex?” Jensen said. “Yeah. As often as you want, sasquatch.”

***

A few weeks later, Jared told Jensen what he wanted in his letter.

“I robbed a liquor store,” he said. “Did you know that?”

“That’s what I’d heard,” Jensen said.

“Armed robbery.”

Jared watched Jensen’s expression not change at all. He was leaning against the cell bars, smoking and waiting for Jared to continue.

“Me and my sister were in the system. In a foster home. I was too young to be her guardian. But the guy we lived with…he should be in here,” Jared said, that old anger rising to the surface. He wanted to break something.

“It’s okay, Jay,” Jensen said. “Take your time.”

“I wanted to take her away from there. I was trying to raise money for bus tickets and a deposit on an apartment for the two of us. But it was taking too long.”

“So you robbed a liquor store.”

“Tried to,” Jared said. “But there was a little girl there. Came out of the back room while I was holding a gun on her dad. I saw her, and all I could think of was Meghan. Of when she’d been that small. And how all I wanted was to do right for her. I just froze. I completely froze up. Was standing right there in the middle of the store still holding the gun when the cops showed up.”

“You didn’t try to run?” Jensen said.

“I couldn’t.”

Jensen nodded. He hung up their blanket, and he walked over to the bunk, pulled at Jared until he was lying down with him. Jared rested his head on Jensen’s shoulder and watched Jensen smoke.

“You wanna tell them about Meghan in your letter?” Jensen said finally.

“Don’t you think I should?” Jared said.

“It’s probably a good idea.”

“All I think about is getting out of here and being there for her,” Jared said. “She’d be nineteen now.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Jared said. “She writes me letters, but I can’t read them.”

“Jesus, Jay,” Jensen said. “Why didn’t you say something? I could read them to you.”

Jared shook his head. “I’m gonna be able to read them myself soon.”

Jensen nodded.

“Will you fuck me, Jen?” Jared said. “I wanna fuck before lights out, so I can see you.”

Jensen rolled over on top of Jared, stubbed his cigarette out against the wall, then tossed it in the toilet. He pressed his lips to Jared’s, pushed his tongue into Jared’s mouth. He tasted of cigarettes and sweat, and Jared let him maul his mouth until his lips were tingling. He wriggled underneath him until he got his jumper down around his ankles and let Jensen press his legs back and pin them there with his shoulders. Jensen dropped his head, Jared saw the smooth arch of his back, felt Jensen’s spit against his hole, then Jensen looked at him while he fucked two fingers into Jared’s body.

They did this silently. The other cons knew they were fucking, but that didn’t mean they had to let them hear it. Whatever was between them, it was no longer a show. So they did it quiet and kept it just for themselves.

When Jensen finally pressed his cock into Jared’s body, Jared bit his arm to stifle his moan, but Jensen touched his cheek and made Jared face him, pressed his lips to Jared’s to swallow all of his noises. Jensen tugged too rough at Jared’s cock, and Jared came while Jensen was still inside of him. He watched Jensen’s face as he came right after.

***

Jared leaned against his open cell door shooting the shit with Abrams in the cell next to him while he waited for Jensen to get back from Library duty. Once a week in the evenings, Jensen walked the library cart around the cell blocks, collecting books and handing others out. But he was late tonight. It was almost time for lockdown, and Jared tried to cover his worry by listening to Abrams talk about all the “sweet pussy” he was gonna get when he got out of this place.

When Jensen finally showed, it was with a fat lip and a couple of broken fingers that had needed to be taped up in the infirmary.

“You should see the other guy,” Jensen said at Jared’s look. He disappeared into the cell.

“Better see to your bitch, Padalecki,” Abrams said.

“Fuck off,” Jared said, though there was no heat to it. He’d save that for whoever had been stupid enough to fuck with what was his.

Jensen didn’t want to talk, that much was obvious, and Jared gave him some space and waited to say anything until the cell was locked behind them and they were stuck in one place for the night.

“Who did it?” Jared said.

“Does it matter?” Jensen lit a cigarette and rubbed the taped up hand over his face, wincing when he hit his lip.

The sight of that tape infuriated Jared. “Of course if fucking matters because I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“This is exactly why I’m not telling you,” Jensen said.

“That’s exactly why you should tell me,” Jared responded. “I’m supposed to be protecting you. I can’t let this go or I’ll seem weak. And even if I could, I don’t want to let it go.”

“It’s not worth it. You’re too close to your parole hearing to get in trouble for this.” Jensen’s face just…cracked all of a sudden. That was the only way Jared could describe it. It went from no emotion to cracked open with everything Jensen was feeling spilled out all over the place. “I can’t be the reason you don’t get parole, Jay. I won’t be able to forgive myself.”

“Jen—”

“What am I gonna do when you’re gone?” Jensen said. “I can barely manage this shit when you’re here. What do I do when you’re not?”

Jared grabbed Jensen by the back of the neck and pulled him in close. He felt Jensen tremble. He held him until he stopped.

Jensen stepped away. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

“I’ll make sure you’re protected,” Jared said.

Jensen just snorted, crawled into his bunk, and gave Jared his back.

After lights out, Jared tried to sleep without Jensen, but he couldn’t. He jumped down off of his bunk, crawled into Jensen’s, and folded himself against Jensen’s back. He wrapped his arm around Jensen’s stomach, and Jensen gripped his wrist. It was always a tight squeeze, fitting two grown men into one bunk, but somehow they made it work. And they both slept better because of it.

***

When Jared was released, he stayed in a halfway house for six months. It was close to his sister’s college, and sometimes he walked over to campus and had coffee with her. Jared thought she would’ve hated him for leaving her, but it seemed all those letters had been about wanting to see him. She’d blamed herself for what he’d done since he’d done it for her, though he tried to tell her not to.

Jensen wrote to him sometimes, though he kept it clean because Jared still had to have his sister help him read them. But he hooked Jared up with a reading teacher, too. A guy named Chris who Jensen had known on the outside. Jared got a job stocking shelves at a target at night, and a job changing oil during the day.

He did these things, but mostly he waited for Jensen. If Jensen was being hurt by the other cons, he wasn’t telling Jared. Not that Jared expected him to. Jensen had another two years left on his sentence, and Jared knew that sometimes a person just had to live through something like that. Talking about it didn’t do any good.

So Jared did what he could. He planned for Jensen’s release. He got a one room apartment with a king sized bed. He worked on his reading. When he bought a used car, he’d been out for a year, and he tried to pick one he thought Jensen might like. He planned and he waited. He planned and he waited. And he worried about what Jensen would be like when they saw each other again.


	2. What You Taste Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared and Jensen are reunited on the outside. (Originally posted as a separate fic in this verse.)

Jared was having coffee in a little out-of-the-way diner called Casey’s when he heard Jensen was out. Jared liked out-of-the-way diners. He liked the anonymity of them, liked that he could spend an hour just resting in between shifts and not having to worry about answering any questions or telling anyone his name. Jared had been a social type in his teens, went out of his way to be part of everything, but since leaving prison, he found he craved solitude. Sure, he liked to have noise around him; noise was soothing. In prison, there was always noise: Men coughing, laughing, talking, clanging, crying. Men snoring in the night, grunting while they fisted themselves or fucked. Men snicking matches in the yard to smoke cigarettes, the hollow thud of a basketball against a broken old concrete court. It got so the constant noise was common place, and Jared found he needed it to feel calm.

But noise was different from interaction, and Jared wasn’t so great with interaction. He tried to hold himself in a way that wasn’t intimidating, but his size combined with a hardness he’d cultivated in prison seemed to keep people wary anyway. He was grateful for his sister, who’d introduced him to some good people and insisted on telling everyone he met that he was just a big ole puppy dog, but Jared knew better. The things he’d done in prison to keep himself safe, they made him feel like he wasn’t fit to be around the people his sister kept company with. He was only twenty-five, but he felt like he had decades on his sister and her friends.

When Chris showed up at the diner, his messenger bag stuffed full with what Jared assumed were student papers and textbooks and his hair tied back with a loose cord, Jared felt himself tense a bit until Chris settled in and offered him a grin. It was always that way until Jared remembered Chris was good folk; he never treated Jared any different, and seemed to accept Jared’s reading problem in stride as if he dealt with grown men being illiterate every single day. And Jared supposed he did. He’d taught at the college with Jensen before Jensen went in. His specialty was Reading for Dummies, though Chris called it Developmental. Jared was glad Jensen had hooked them up.

“Hey, man,” Chris said. “Sorry about the lateness and all.”

Jared shrugged. “I don’t work tonight.”

“Cool.”

Chris sat back as the waitress filled his coffee cup and gave Jared a wink. Jared ducked his head and avoided her eyes.

“You should ask her out,” Chris said.

Jared just shook his head once. Chris knew Jared knew Jensen, but as far as Jared knew, that was the extent of his knowledge. Jared didn’t want to give Jensen’s secrets away; they weren’t his to give. He and Chris hadn’t even mentioned Jensen since their first meeting. But Jared hadn’t heard from Jensen in months, and he was thinking he might break his silence on the subject.

Chris pulled a book from his bag. Lord of the Flies. After half a year of Jensen and over two years of Chris, Jared was reading at what Chris said was a twelfth grade level. When Jared let himself dwell on it, that fact filled the hollow in his chest with a warm light. He wasn’t sure if he’d learned to read in the normal amount of time, or if that was maybe even slow or fast, but he tried to let himself be proud for just a little bit. So now when he got together with Chris, they mostly just talked about the book he’d had Jared read. It was informal, really. Jared had his GED now and was taking Composition and Algebra at the Community College, but he was reluctant to give up his time with Chris.

They talked about the book a little—Jared thought he could relate to the main character—but Jared felt antsy, cooped up. He couldn’t concentrate on what was right in front of him.

“Hey,” Chris said, his tone of voice made it seem as if it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Jared’s attention.

“Sorry,” Jared said, a little sheepish.

“It’s cool, man,” Chris said. He sat back, sipped from his cup of coffee and glanced around the coffee shop.

Jared finished his own cup, thought crazily about ordering a chocolate milkshake.

“You wanna call it quits for the day?” Chris said.

“You came all this way.”

“It’s two blocks from campus,” Chris said. “I walked.”

Jared nodded, looked into the dregs of his coffee.

Chris seemed to be waiting for something.

Jared cleared his throat. “You, uh,” he said. “You heard from Jensen lately?”

Chris pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said after a minute, like he was thinking about not telling Jared the truth.

“I just hadn’t gotten a letter from him for a while, so…” Jared tucked his hair behind his ears and sighed. “You know what, man? Never mind.”

“He sent you letters?” Chris said.

Jared shrugged.

“I know what you two were to each other, Jared,” Chris said.

Jared looked at him, opened his mouth, then shut it. He felt himself slowly flush under Chris’s gaze.

Chris held his hand up. “I’m not judging, man,” he said. “Jen’s been out ‘n proud since he was sixteen. I just…he didn’t mention he’d kept in touch.”

“Okay,” Jared said, not knowing what it meant.

“It’s just not my place, man,” Chris said, and he looked sorry, which Jared knew meant that there was something for him to be sorry about.

Jared’s stomach wobbled, and he felt lightheaded and lead-weighted all at the same time.

“Is he okay?” he said when he could find his words.

“Jared—”

“Please, Chris.”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. He’s fine,” he said. “I mean, as good as can be expected. He’s out. He was released about three months ago or so.”

“Oh,” Jared said.

“He’s been keeping to himself, you know? Trying to adjust,” Chris said. “I’m sure he would’ve gotten in touch with you eventually.”

Chris looked distinctly uncomfortable, like he wanted to make Jared feel better but thought he might be betraying Jensen with his attempt.

“Where is he?” Jared said.

“Jay—”

“I’m serious, Chris,” Jared said. “I need to know.”

“He’ll kill me if I tell you, man.” Chris blew out a long breath, and his fingers twitched toward the cigarettes that weren’t in his pocket. He’d stopped smoking months ago.

“You’ve talked about it, then?” Jared said. “He doesn’t want to see me?”

“Oh,” Chris gave a jaded sounding laugh. “He wants to see you. He just doesn’t want to fuck you up. Those were his words, by the way. The asshole doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Jared tucked his hands between his legs and hunched his shoulders to keep himself from shaking. He felt like a heroin addict watching a balloon of the sweetest smack waved just out of reach. “I need to see him,” he half whispered.

Chris nodded a little, drummed his fingers against the Formica table top. He searched Jared’s face. He gave him Jensen’s new address.

***

Jensen was staying in the same halfway house the state had set Jared up in. Jared felt a little twitchy just looking at it. When he’d left this place, he’d made himself a promise he’d never be back. But he could do this. He’d do a hell of a lot more for Jensen.

Visitors had to sign in, and Jensen wasn’t allowed visitors to his room. He asked for Jensen and signed his name, then waited awkwardly in the dim hallway. This place had been some rich man’s wet dream over a hundred years ago; now it was ailing—expensive wallpaper traded for dingy off-white paint and a hundred flyers for AA meetings and NA meetings and want ads and church groups. Jared could smell too-sweet spaghetti sauce cooking in the kitchen and the damp, burnt smell of too many cigarettes seeped into moldy walls. He remembered his first night here, and how he’d cried himself to sleep, his face pressed into a pillow that smelled of someone else’s sweat, even though he hadn’t cried in over seven years and wouldn’t cry again in the years to come.

When Jared saw Jensen, he held himself very still and tight. He waited for Jensen to see him instead of calling his name.

When Jensen saw him, his eyes widened minutely. “Goddamnit,” he said. “Goddamnit.”

“Hey, Jen,” Jared said.

“Goddamnit, Sasquatch.”

“You’ve said that already,” Jared said.

Jensen shook his head, as if there were something to deny. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” he said.

“Does that mean you don’t want me here?” Jared said.

“I want you fucking everywhere,” Jensen said. He laughed. “Shut up,” he said. “I know that didn’t make sense.”

Jared grinned. “Fucking Jensen Ackles,” he said.

Jensen led him into the rec room, which was blessedly empty. Jared guessed most of the residents were at work, either finishing up or going in for a late shift.

Jensen sat and lit a cigarette. Jared sat beside him and watched. Jensen’s eyes were more deeply lined, and his lips looked dry, the fingers pinching his cigarette stained from the tobacco, but otherwise he looked the same, stupidly handsome in a way Jared never allowed himself to contemplate when he was in prison and nothing he loved or even passingly admired was safe left out in the open.

“You’re staring, Jay,” Jensen said.

“Can’t help it,” Jared said.

“You look good,” Jensen said.

“You’ve been out three months,” Jared said.

Jensen looked down at his lap, rubbed at something invisible on his jeans, dragged on his cigarette.

“I’m not mad,” Jared went on. “I just wish I’d known.”

“I know, man,” Jensen said. “But I didn’t want you to know. Chris says you’ve got a life out here. I didn’t want to fuck it up.”

“The only way you can do that is by not being in it,” Jared said.

Jensen’s grin was wry. “You think we’re gonna have some storybook ending, Jay?” Jensen said. “You can read now, so you suddenly think life is some goddamned fairytale from one of your books.”

Jared stood and walked to the other side of the room. He turned to face Jensen. His throat felt like a rusty drain pipe. His mouth like ash. “Fuck,” he said.

Jensen looked apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t mean that.”

“You meant it,” Jared said.

“I meant what I said about the fairytale, Jay, yeah.” He stubbed his cigarette out and immediately lit another. When he spoke, the cigarette bobbed up and down between his pinched lips. “But that thing about you reading? I shouldn’t have said it. I’m proud of you, man.” He blew smoke out thorough his nose, rubbed the back of his neck. “So goddamned proud.”

“But you don’t want to be with me?” Jared said. He felt lost. He wondered if drowning felt this hopeless.

“I want that,” Jensen said. “But you deserve better. You don’t know who I am now, what I’ve done.”

“I know prison, Jens,” Jared said. “It won’t be a shock. I want you to be with me. I want you to give me a chance.”

They were interrupted by another resident, a woman who Jared thought had to be in her sixties, wizened looking, with yellow teeth and eyes. “Nice reunion, boys?” she said. “A good fuck always breaks the tension. Give me a light, Ackles.”

Jensen lit the cigarette dangling from her lips. She cupped his hands in hers and he grinned at Jared over her shoulder.

“Thanks,” she said, sucking in smoke. “I could repay you real good, if you wanted. The big guy’s welcome, too.” She winked at Jared and sauntered out of the room.

Jensen laughed. “She’s a real charmer, ain’t she?”

“She was here when I was,” Jared said. “She was always inviting me to her room ‘for a ball,’ whatever the hell that means.”

Jensen cackled and slapped his hands together, and Jared just watched him, taking him in.

“All right, Jay,” Jensen said. “Let’s give this a try, huh?”

***

Jensen had a six o’clock curfew unless he was working, so they made plans to meet the next day on Jared’s lunch break. Jared spent all morning half-anxious Jensen wouldn’t show and half-anxious he would. All he could think was Jensen Jensen Jensen, a chant steady in his head like a metronome that kept him functioning through his work, kept his pulse steady and his breathing calm.

“There’s someone asking for you,” Cal said. “You got lunch break. I can finish the oil and filter on this one.

“Thanks,” Jared said.

He wiped the grease from his hands onto his rag, then tried to straighten his coveralls and his hair. When he walked into the little waiting room with the yellow plastic chairs and the radio that played perpetual static, Jensen was sitting, his leg bouncing up and down. He was chewing his nails.

“Hey,” Jared said.

Jensen looked up. He grinned and his leg stilled. “Take me to lunch, Jay?” he said.

Jared drove them in his little car.

“This yours?” Jensen said.

“Yeah,” Jared said.

“You’ve done well for yourself since you’ve been out.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jared said.

“Car, two jobs, GED, going to school?” Jensen said. “You’ve done well. Don’t knock it.”

“Sounds like you’ve been talking to Chris,” Jared said. He tossed a quick glance Jensen’s way then brought his eyes back to the road. He could feel Jensen squirm.

“I should probably apologize to him for that,” Jensen said finally. “I pumped him for information about you every chance I got.”

Jared laughed. It felt genuine and open, and suddenly he just felt good. A rush of real happiness, and he was so startled by the sensation, he almost jerked the car out of the lane.

“Whoa, there,” Jensen said.

“It’s so goddamned good to see you, Jen,” Jared said.

He reached out and put his hand against the back of Jensen’s neck. He wanted to feel the soft hair at the nape of his neck. But Jensen flinched, hard, pulling away so fast he knocked his shoulder against the door.

“Ow, fuck!” Jensen said.

“Jensen?” Jared said.

Jensen slammed his fist against the dashboard. “Fuck!” he said again, the sound loud and startling in the silent car.

Jared started to pull into the nearest parking lot.

“Don’t you stop,” Jensen said. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

Jared pulled over anyway.

“Goddamnit, Jay,” Jensen said. “I said give me a minute.”

Jared held his hands up. “I am,” he said. “Take your time, Jens.”

Jensen looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He looked as if he was holding himself so tense that he’d probably ache once he let himself go.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, after a time.

Jared shrugged. “Don’t be,” he said.

“It’s not you, Jay,” he said. “I wouldn’t pull away from you.”

“Okay,” Jared said.

“You’re being infuriatingly calm about this whole thing,” Jensen said. There was a small smile at his lips, though it faded quickly.

“I just…” Jared fiddled with his parking tag hanging from the rearview. “I get it,” he said. “You aren’t good with being touched right now. I can do hands-off.”

Jensen nodded. “You can touch me,” he said. “I can handle it. You just caught me off guard.”

And Jared knew how that was. He’d been years out of prison so the feeling wasn’t so immediate, but Jensen was only months out, and for him, being caught unawares didn’t mean anything good.

Jared reached out slowly, broadcasting his movements. Jensen was turned to face him and leaning against his door. He watched Jared’s hand, as if he was both wary of its approach and desperate for it. When Jared touched his cheek, he flinched a little, though he held it in check. A little gasp tipped out of his mouth.

“I can stop,” Jared murmured.

Jensen reached up and grabbed his hand, pressed his check into it further. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Please don’t.”

Jared dragged his thumb across Jensen’s bottom lip. Jensen touched it with the tip of his tongue, then closed his eyes and kissed it. “I missed you,” he said, his lips moving across Jared’s thumb. “More than that,” he said. He still didn’t open his eyes. “Being in there without you?” He shook his head.

“I know,” Jared said.

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t talk about it.”

“I know,” Jared said.

“If I could, I’d talk to you,” Jensen said. He moved Jared’s hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to Jared’s palm.

“I’m here,” Jared said.

“Can you kiss me?” Jensen blinked his eyes open. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t remember what you taste like.”

Jared leaned over, his big body awkward and cramped in the tiny console. Jensen met him halfway. He pressed his tongue into Jared’s mouth, mapping every surface, and his hands were in Jared’s hair as if Jared would even think to pull away.

When he pulled their lips apart, he kissed Jared’s cheek and up to his ear.

“There you are,” he said.

“Here I am,” Jared agreed.


End file.
